


Terminal Case of Feelings

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Background Wayhaught if you Squint, F/M, Mostly Fluff, Slight pining, Waverly Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7164923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or, The One Where Waverly Is As Sick Of Wynonna And Dolls Not Kissing As I Am</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terminal Case of Feelings

“D’you think I could get away with locking them in the closet?” asks Waverly, scowling at her sister and Dolls where they’re both hunched over _something_.

“Again?” Nicole answers doubtfully.

“They’re doing that thing,” she whines.

“You mean touching?”

“I don’t appreciate that tone,” she grumbles, snatching a cookie off the desk.  “Don’t you think they’d be so much _happier_ if they stopped making goo-goo eyes at each other?”  Nicole is looking at her, eyebrows tilted.  “What?”

“Nothing!” she laughs.  “You’re just… _really_ involved in your sister’s love life.”

“Because they _love each other_ ,” Waverly answers emphatically.

\--

Loose-limbed and satisfied, Wynonna runs her hands up Dolls’ arms.  “I have the _best_ ideas,” she sighs.

“This was a terrible idea,” he replies.  “I mean, it was awesome.  But it was still an awful idea.”

“It was irresponsible, sure,” she concedes.  “But that doesn’t keep it from being a great idea.”  Still kind of buzzing, she continues, “And you were kinda driving me crazy out there.”

His eyebrows tick upward.  “I was barely touching you.”

Eyes narrowing, she tilts her head thoughtfully and says, “Yeah, no, that’s now how I remember it.”

“Your memory’s faulty,” he responds.

It’s not, she is with absolute certainty calling bullshit on this one.  He’d been hovering too close, smiling _just so_ , eyes too soft and hands too warm.  And she’s willing to admit, okay, he could have been doing it on accident, but she has her doubts.  Someone like him?  Not aware of what he was doing to her? 

_Bullshit,_ she thinks.

Dolls is staring at her.  She shoves her hands through her hair and puffs a sigh. 

“If you keep this up, we’re gonna end up here all night again,” he warns, digging his fingers into her hips.

“See, you always make that _sound_ so fun, that’s your problem,” she laughs.  Her head falls on his shoulder, warmed by his gentle chuckle.  She’s aware that she shouldn’t drag this out—this weird post-sex snuggling—but she’s also _very_ comfortable, and she takes it where she can get it.

So, she digs her nails in and holds on to the moment until Dolls drags it away with a soft, “We should get to work.”

“Ugh, worst.”

\--

Waverly jolts when the door creaks open.  Her DS lays dead in her lap, and she squints when the light goes on.

“Oh, Jesus, Wave,” Wynonna gasps, keys still dangled defensively in front of her.

“’nother late night with Dolls?” she yawns, scrubbing at her eyes.  “This is, like, a solid week.”

“Well, yanno, wanna break the curse before I’m thirty,” her sister quips, hanging up her keys and working on the zipper of her coat.  “You okay?  Were you waiting up for me?”

“Uh, yeah—I mean, I’m fine, I was playing Pokemon,” she stammers— _smooth_.

“Super convincing,” Wynonna observes serenely.

There’s a question that’s been weighing on her tongue but any time she gets a chance to ask it, it dies before she can articulate it.  She screws up her lips, but Wynonna’s giving her this _really concerned_ look and she can’t ask.  “Get some rest,” she says eventually.

“You too,” she hears over footsteps down the hall.

\--

This isn’t going _exactly_ as planned, okay?  Because they aren’t working, they _certainly_ aren’t having sex, which is what this whole thing was _about_ —and this is fine, actually, it’s _great_.  Like, it feels great and easy and not at all scary, but she can objectively say that this could definitely be qualified as a deviation from the original plan.  But…

She’s comfortable.

That’s it, really, that’s all—she’s comfortable and doesn’t want to move and disturb that.

Where she’s got her ear planted against his chest, his steady heartbeat drums out the cooking competition on TV.  Whatever, she wasn’t that interested anyway, he put it on.  Stretching, she drapes over him more fully, settles heavily into his chest in spite of every drowsy warning telling her she should _go home_.  Her limbs are _way_ too heavy for that.  In the end, she didn’t fight too hard in that battle, forfeiting as soon as her eyelids start to droop.  She even gamely tries to ignore the buzzing in her pocket but their position makes it difficult to convincingly pretend she doesn’t feel it against her hip—plus she’s reasonably certain it’s lodged against his crotch.

“Hey,” she croaks, voice heavy with sleep, settling again over him.

“Where are you?” Waverly asks.

“Something happen?”

“It’s three AM,” she says pointedly.

“I’m sleepin’ on a couch,” she mumbles as Dolls starts combing his fingers through her hair.  “You okay?”

The worry is replaced by something close to mischief when her sister counters, “ _Whose_ couch?”

“There are three people who would let me in their houses, Wave,” Wynonna groans, rubbing her face against Dolls’ shirt.

\--

“She _slept_ on his _couch_ ,” Waverly sniffs, dropping her head on Nicole’s desk.  “They’re so dumb.”

“Maybe they’ve already talked about it,” Nicole reasons, voice calming.  “Maybe… they just don’t want to act on it for a reason you don’t know.”

“I’m gonna let that slide because you _clearly_ don’t know Wynonna well enough yet,” she responds, propping her chin on her arm.  She’s absolutely _distraught_ over this because there’s no _way_ her sister has had that conversation.  No, Wynonna _doesn’t_ tell her everything—she _knows_ that—but this is such a Thing—a big Thing—there’s absolutely no way she wouldn’t have at least heard of it by now.  “You’re not _in there_ with us, it’s the worst because they’re always looking at each other, and they have these _jokes_ —”

“Lots of people have jokes, Waves,” Nicole interrupts, smiling.

“They’re practically leaking their feelings all over the place!” she moans, plowing ahead.  “Do you think I’m projecting?  I’m not imagining everything?”

“No, I also have eyes and see plenty of them,” Nicole concedes lowly.  “I just think, maybe, we don’t always _see_ everything—we’re not always with them.  They might just take care of it on their own.”

“They’ll _never_ do that because they’re both clueless,” Waverly sighs.

\--

“Okay,” Wynonna heaves, snatching the file out of Dolls’ hands and tossing it thoughtlessly on the coffee table.  “Break time—whiskey or decaf?”

He takes a long time to look up at her, eyes unreadable.  “Um, whiskey?”

Eyebrows flicking up, she nods, “Alright.”  She can feel his gaze all the way into the kitchen, where she grabs a couple of glasses, a half-full bottle.  When she gets back into the living room, his eyes are back on that file, thick with crime scene photos and a _very_ detailed eye-witness account.  She watches him toss back the first swallow, the following grimace, and she stands when his eyes flit back over to it.

Walking around the couch, she stops behind him and bends forward to whisper, “I said it was break time.  Close your eyes.”  He complies, and she digs her fingers into his bunched shoulders, the tight muscles of his neck.  She can see his lips part to let out a low noise, too quiet for a moan but gentle and kinda—

She works her way up, massaging over his scalp, smiling softly because no one can see her do it.  Eyes still shut, he lets her tip his head back, lets out a quiet breath when she rubs his temples.  She can’t help dropping down to kiss him.  It’s supposed to be quick and chaste but he follows her when she pulls away and that’s enough to keep herself there, chasing smoky whiskey over his tongue.

Soon, though, the awkward position and need to _breathe_ make her straighten, pushing her hair back.

“Were you trying to seduce me?” he asks, deep and teasing.

“Thought I’d already covered that?” she laughs.

\--

It’s past six in the morning when she stomps in the door, kicking off her boots and shivering out of her coat.  She gets halfway down the hall before she realizes she’s hearing voices from the kitchen.  Quiet in sockfeet, she tiptoes backward, straining to hear what’s being said but they’re just soft enough that she can’t make it out.

Cautiously, she calls, “Wynonna?”

“In here!” her sister answers, in the kitchen.

Relieved, she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and walks normally the rest of the way.  Wynonna’s perched up on a counter, a mere ten feet from their actual dining table, slurping a bowl of cereal, where Dolls is seated like a person.  She only has a moment to think about how weird it is to see him just… eating breakfast… in her home when her sister demands, “Where were you?”

“I hung out with Nicole,” she answers, very aware of Dolls’ eyes on her but not looking over.

“Cool, this guy fell asleep right in the middle of work,” Wynonna grins at him with something like fondness—not that he can see it.  “Want some breakfast?”

“Um, yeah.”

\--

Scowling into a microscope—she has no idea what she’s supposed to be seeing—Wynonna murmurs, “You’re doing that distracting thing again.”

That distracting thing is the way he’s rubbing her back.

The thing is, really, they’ve never talked about this.  That would be fine, he’s good and she’s not exactly getting _nothing_ out of it, and it’s not even a surprise that they’ve never talked about it!  They are both notoriously bad at that!  So, really, she could have foreseen this.  His general silence is really, truly fine.  But… she may have at some point caught feelings.  This was supposed to be a _fun_ thing, but some of this is really not fun—the painful dread that’s been pooling in her gut that this is _frighteningly temporary_ , the reminders that he’s gonna leave at some point, the fear of losing something she really doesn’t even have?

Not a party.

(There are others—terrifyingly big and warm and nothing she’s ever felt before—but she’s not _about_ to open that particular can of worms.)

The weight of his hand on her back disappears, but it doesn’t get better.  She can still feel the ghost of his palm sliding between her shoulder blades.

“Alright, what am I looking at?” she demands, annoyed and huffing.

\--

“Do you think about Dolls?” Waverly asks innocently, pushing broccoli around her plate with her fork.

“Kinda can’t avoid it, he’s sorta my partner,” Wynonna replies with a smirk.

“You’re funny,” she snorts, rolling her eyes.  “No, I mean like—just, about him?”

Brow furrowing, Wynonna chews her lip.  “I mean, no?”

Not super convincing.

Waverly presses, “You spend a lot of time with him.”

“Yeah, partner,” she laughs back.  “Listen, it’s nothing, we just work a lot because…”  Biting her lip guiltily, Waverly hears the unsaid _because people die if we don’t_.  “Plus, I mean, I guess you can totally get used to anything—even him working out _naked_ in the office.”

Rolling her eyes, she kicks her sister’s foot.  “You’re sure you don’t _like_ him just a little bit?” she taunts.

Wynonna huffs a derisive laugh but doesn’t answer the question.  She takes that as a win, privately.

\--

Still unsettled—over the conversation with Wave at dinner the night before?  Her sudden realization about how she _definitely feels things_ in a very inconvenient way?  The world may never know—Wynonna knocks her knee against Dolls’ under the table.

“You’re incorrigible,” he grunts, not looking up.

“That’s certainly a word I never thought I’d hear in real life,” she counters.

He looks like he’s about to say something else when the door bursts open and Waverly flies in like a bat outta hell.  Her fiery expression keeps them both quiet; Wynonna doesn’t even _dare_ glance at Dolls for fear of inciting some pent-up wrath.

“You two,” she starts, pointing angrily, “Are absolutely driving me insane.  So I’m gonna need you to talk about your feelings, kiss, do it, what _ever_ , but I actually can’t take it anymore.  And don’t you _dare_ try to leave without doing something.”

As quickly as she’d appeared, she whirls around and storms out, slamming the door behind her.

Gaping, Wynonna stares at the spot she’d been standing.

At length, Dolls asks, “So, feelings?”

_Shit_.

\--

Red-faced, Waverly stalks to Nicole at the front desk.  “Did you hear that?” she asks tentatively.

“Yeah, and Mrs. Jenkins,” Nicole replies, eyebrows apologetic.  “Good thing it’s lunchtime, right?”

Waverly sighs, “I probably shouldn’t’ve done that.”

“Probably not,” the other responds, taking both of her hands across the counter.  “But it’s done.  It’ll work out.”

Lips twisting wryly, she nods.  “Did you eat all the cookies?”

Nicole ducks her head with a quick flash of a smile.  “There’s a pack of Oreos in my desk drawer,” she laughs a little.  “I’ll split ‘em with you if you bring ‘em over here,” she offers.

\--

“So, um, guilty?” Wynonna does eventually answer, peeking over at him carefully.

His gaze is closed off for a moment before he gives her a crooked smile, mumbling, “Yeah, same.”

Closing her eyes, she shakes her head, something like relief expanding in her chest.  “Please tell me that’s all the talking about it we have to do,” she says in a rush.

“If you want,” he replies, tilting his chin.  “Come _here_ ,” he orders, pressing into her space to mash their lips together, hard but slow with an edge of teeth.  “Does this mean we don’t have to pretend we’re _not_ sleeping together when you’re at my place all night?”

Snorting, she rolls her eyes.  “I kinda thought the sneaking around was _fun_ ,” she jokes.  After another fast, bruising kiss, she pushes herself back, murmurs, “I should go talk to my sister.”  He hums an agreement.  Waverly’s despondently munching on Oreos at the front desk when she clicks the door shut behind herself.  “Hey,” she says softly, offering Nicole a quick smile.

“Sorry about that,” Wave cringes.

“Uh, no, actually, that’s… fine,” Wynonna mumbles, rubbing the back of her neck.  “It’s good, actually, we—uh, we’ve kinda been having sex for a few months.”

Waverly gasps, “Are you _serious_?”

Nicole probably _thinks_ Wynonna doesn’t hear her soft, “I _knew_ it.”  She shoots the cop a quick look.

“Yeah, so—surprise!” she laughs nervously.

**Author's Note:**

> I?? feel like this was a prompt but maybe not?? Maybe no one asked for this, that would be fine too. Check out my [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) where I complain about why these two jerks don't just kiss already a lot. I also take prompts! And your praise keeps me sustained!
> 
> No pressure though.


End file.
